


By Cowslip and Cherry

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [9]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Day fifteen, Day nineteen, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/F, TWW Valentines LemonFest 2019, Unusual Location
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Ada tries to convince Hecate to play hooky.For TWW Valentine Lemon!Fest.Day Fifteen Prompt: Dirty Talk.Day Nineteen Prompt: Unusual Location.





	By Cowslip and Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> Just your wee little periodic reminder that even though this is part of a series, the stories generally aren't connected or part of a particular storyline/canon. Carry on, dear ones.

The summer heat seemed particularly sweltering this year, and Ada Cackle felt there was no better excuse for staying indoors—particularly if she could convince her overly-diligent deputy to spend a large portion of the day completely naked, though the activities she had in mind certainly didn’t have a cooling effect.

Not that she didn’t find Hecate Hardbroom’s diligence and work ethic valuable and admirable, mind you.

She just didn’t see why they had to be _quite_ so responsible, _all_ the time.

Their current predicament was a prime example of Hecate’s goody-two-shoes nature on full display. They were attending a weekend summit on excellence in education, which was both informative and necessary, as it counted towards their yearly recertification requirements. And while they’d been in a romantic relationship for over four years now, it was the first year that they’d gone _together_ , _alone_ , without any other Cackle’s staff tagging along to notice any improper behavior. They’d still booked two rooms for the sake of appearances. But still, it was nice to choose a restaurant on the other side of town, in the nonmagical world, where despite Hecate’s oozing disdain for the idea of wearing non-witching fashion, they were able to simply _do_ things together, like a perfectly normal couple.

Hecate held her hand when they walked, her face scrunching lightly as she navigated them through streets and alleyways (which sometimes Ada could drag her into for a quick kiss), intent on finding this restaurant or that coffee shop without the aid of a Google Map, whatever _that_ was. On the way back to the hotel, they always took a leisurely route and had gotten lost more than once. Ada had saved Hecate from the local geese in the park, which Hecate had been supremely intent on fighting to the death, nonmagical onlookers be damned (so perhaps Ada had actually saved the geese from Hecate, in retrospect). They’d wandered into a little bookshop and Ada had happily increased her supply of romance novels, which had made Hecate roll her eyes. However Ada knew full well that later, when she was reading in bed, Hecate would surreptitiously read along while propping her head on Ada’s shoulder, pretending to be too engrossed in nuzzling Ada’s neck when really she was paying attention to which scenarios seemed to make Ada blush the most.

It was heaven, to Ada. She knew that she should feel pathetic, seeing this work trip as some grand vacation, but she was never one to mar joy with cynicism.

If only she didn’t have to mar the trip with actual work.

And she’d tried her best no to—had used some of her most proven and effective tricks to convince Hecate to spend the morning in bed, just this once. To miss _just one_ lecture. (Maybe two. Maybe just not arrive at the seminar until after lunch. Maybe, possibly, miss the day altogether.)

Hecate had merely shaken her head. _Ada, tongues will wag. They’ll want to know why we were both missing—even if one of us uses the excuse of illness, it still seems suspect that the other didn’t attend. Besides, it’s an interactive look at the latest memorization method. It’s supposed to increase student information retention rates by nearly twenty-five percent._

While Ada was dearly concerned with the improvement to her students’ educational experience, it was harder to remember that concern when Hecate Hardbroom was only in her bra and underwear, lecturing as she applied her makeup in the bathroom mirror—she always rolled up on the balls of her feet and leaned forward when applying mascara, getting as close to the mirror as possible, and Ada’s view from the bed was a rather lovely one.

But Hecate had won the morning, and here they were, sat across from each other in a conference room, listening to some clean-cut, thoroughly modern looking wizard drone on about retention rates. Everyone had their maglets in their laps, and occasionally the lecturer would send them an image or a diagram to further prove his point. Hecate was nodding along sagely, lips pressed in a thin line. From across the table, Ada desperately wanted to kiss the corner of her mouth.

So she sent Hecate a maglet message saying just that.

Hecate’s dark eyes flicked up to meet Ada’s, the warning in them unmistakable. _Ada Cackle, don’t you dare._

Oh, but Ada did dare.

 _I’d much rather be back at the hotel_ , she scrawled.

Hecate ducked her head to read the note. She gave a small smile.

 _With you._ Ada added.

Hecate flicked her eyes heavenwards, a half eye-roll. That part had been a given, obviously.

 _Preferably sitting on my face_ , Ada upped the anted.

Hecate’s entire body froze. Finally, she etched out a reply, shoulders still incredibly stiff.

 _No_.

Now, Ada Cackle knew full well what Hecate was actually saying no to. Did that stop her from feigning ignorance? Absolutely not.

 _Fine_ , she scribbled back. _If you’d prefer to be underneath me, I won’t complain._ _I’m quite adaptable._

Hecate’s fist clenched tightly as she read the new message. Goddess, did she know just how _adaptable_ Ada Cackle could be. She shot a dark look at her headmistress, who was currently watching the lecturer with rapt attention, the perfect picture of interest and attentiveness. She lightly twirled the tip of her maglet pen through the ends of her hair, tracing down the line of her neck and gently tapping her collarbone, her movements so nearly imperceptible that they seemed absentminded.

Except they weren’t. They were extremely calculated, Hecate knew. Because _Ada_ knew exactly how much Hecate loved running her fingers through her hair, how she loved to bite her way down that neck and trace the outline of her collarbone with her tongue. The blonde was very pointedly reminding her of all the delights she could currently be experiencing, if only she'd played hooky. Ada had already filled her brain with images, past memories of blue eyes watching her with searing intensity from between her thighs, a tongue as wicked as its owner, blonde hair splayed on the sheets beneath her. She could practically feel Ada’s hands on her hips, grounding her, holding her, encouraging her.

It was rather unfair, really. The woman could be impossibly wicked, when she set her mind to it.

Ada gave a small noise of agreement with whatever was being said. Not that Hecate actually heard the man's words—she couldn't tear her eyes away from the woman across from her, who was now biting her bottom lip distractedly. A joke must have been made, because the rest of the room tittered in low laughter. Ada hummed in amusement and Hecate felt another wash of warmth as she remembered that sound in very different settings.

Blue eyes flicked over to meet hers, quick and searing and so full of knowing that Hecate's heart stopped for a full beat. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream at how infuriatingly easy it was for Ada to get her like this.

Then Ada took her maglet in her hands again, nodding along as if she were taking notes.

Oh, goddess, _no_.

Hecate tried to convince herself that the wave of anticipation that rippled in her chest was entirely from frustration and anxiety. Because she would _never_ engage in such behavior at a work event, of course (at least not so openly— _anyone_ could lean over and read her maglet). Still, her gaze kept flitting across the table, to the woman scribbling away with a light smile that seemed entirely too innocuous.

Oh, she was dying to know what was being written. But also, she didn’t want to know. Didn't _need_ to know.

She pressed her lips together, ducked her head, shifted in her seat and tried to redirect her focus.

Her maglet quietly vibrated, signaling a new message. Her chest tightened.

 _Are you really going to torture me like this?_ Hecate fought back a full-body sputter at the simple question— _Hecate_ , the one torturing _Ada_? Oh, the woman was such a manipulative—

Another message popped up. _All I can think of is you, in my mouth. Hearing those lovely little sounds you make when I bite your thigh. And you’re just sitting there, completely refusing to give me anything, Hecate Hardbroom. Play with me, please._

The last line was what broke her. Ada had been dealt more than her fair share of stressful blows in life, and so Hecate had always pushed herself to find spaces where Ada could let go, be naughty and fun and carefree, where she could play, however she wanted, without worrying about the opinions and rules of others, for once in her damn life.

Ada saw the shift in her lover’s expression, and her stomach did a small flip of anticipation. She knew that look.

Without warning, she felt her underwear completely vanish. She couldn’t stop herself from bolting upright in her chair, surprised by the sudden change. Hecate’s mouth quirked into a small smirk.

Ada ducked her head to hide her own grin. Hecate Hardbroom never did anything by half measures. The blonde pushed her chair back from the table slightly, angling so that she could simply watch Hecate, knowing her face was now hidden from their lecturer.

Hecate set her maglet in her lap, her right hand surreptitiously moving to her pocket. Her face was meticulously blank, but Ada saw the single, hard blink, and the way her throat tightened as she swallowed. Ada felt a trill of delight. So Hecate hadn’t simply sent her underwear into vanishment.

Hecate’s hand slipped back out of her pocket, the flush creeping up her neck unmistakable as she leaned forward to write. Ada had to bite her lip to keep from beaming like a fool.

Ada’s maglet vibrated with a new message.

 _Soaked already, Ada Cackle._ _Seems like this seminar is going to be quite torturous for you._

So Ada hadn’t won entirely (yet). She shot back, _You could fix this problem with a wave of those wonderful fingers._

Hecate’s mouth spasmed again, but she quickly regained control of it.

_The entire purpose of this weekend is learning, Ada. Perhaps you should learn patience._

Ada fought back a whine at her lover’s response. Patience had certainly never been her strong suit, that much was true. But Hecate was only denying her because she knew how it made Ada’s blood rise. When it came to the symphony of Ada’s desire, Hecate was a consummate conductor. Ada was overcome with memories of nights that had ended with her a shaking, sweating, pleading mess, too weak to do anything but beg for release at the mercy of those hands, that tongue, that woman who could use every inch of her powerful frame to keep Ada strung out on a tightrope of heat and heady desire.

Hecate must have sensed Ada’s displeasure, because she sent another message. _You should have considered the consequences of your actions before you engaged in such lascivious behavior. You have no one to blame but yourself._

 _Oh, I blame you._ Ada replied. _After all, I have no desire to return to the hotel alone._

She was awful for what she wrote next, because she knew exactly what her words would do, but she wrote it anyways, completely unrepentant. _I suppose I could still go back, by myself._

Hecate’s eyes were the size of saucers as she read it. And Ada knew exactly what reaction was sparked beneath those layers of unassuming black. The thought of Ada, alone, touching herself while thinking of Hecate, was too overwhelming. The idea that she held that much power, inspired that much desire in the blonde, was more intoxicating than a shot of witches brew—and Ada knew it.

Applause rippled around the table, and both witches realized that the lecture had ended. Hecate swiveled her chair so that she was fully facing her headmistress, her eyes dark and tinged with aggravation. She’d missed half the lecture, due to the woman who was smiling back at her, benign and completely unrepentant.

Ada rose and moved over to the lecturer, fully aware of the pair of eyes locked onto her. She politely requested a transcript of the speech, which he gladly provided, along with all the diagrams and images. She intentionally did not glance back at the conference table, where now only one witch sat, her eyes boring into Ada’s skin.

Finally Ada said her goodbyes and headed for the door. Hecate rose to her feet, following woodenly behind her. Even on the carpet, Hecate’s heels sounded ominous, like the rumble of distant thunder.

But then again, Ada had always loved a good storm.

Once they were in the hallway, Hecate snatched Ada’s hand and vanished both their maglets. With determined strides, she pulled her headmistress down the hall, head swiveling back and forth and she read the signs above each door.

Ada didn’t ask questions. She already had a fairly good idea.

Hecate nearly shuddered with relief when she found the door to the stairwell, pulling Ada inside and practically dragging her down a half-flight of stairs, to the corner without windows or doors.

“ _Incorrigible_ ,” Hecate informed her. “Ada Cackle, I swear you will be the death of me.”

Her words were less effective than they should have been, given that she’d pressed Ada into the wall, lowering her mouth to that infernally mischievous smile, capturing Ada’s bottom lip between her teeth. Ada’s hands were on her hips, pulling her further in, forcing Hecate to brace her hands against the wall, effectively trapping the blonde.

Hecate pulled back slightly, her hands roving over Ada’s frame, brushing back her hair, tracing down her shoulders, kneading her breasts, digging desperate fingers into her hips.

“Wicked, wicked girl,” her voice was trembling as she whispered, tone tinged with adoration. “We’re in the middle of a _very_ public lecture and you have me—”

“I do have you, don’t I?” Ada was so smug, so victorious. Her hands were still at Hecate’s hips, rubbing in encouraging circles that sometimes slipped around to quickly grab her ass, rocking her forward, back into Ada. As usual, Hecate’s heels placed her neck at the perfect height for Ada’s mouth—she kissed the tense line of her deputy’s neck before whispering, “Except it’s not _exactly_ how I want you, right now.”

Ada’s breath was hot against Hecate’s skin, causing another ripple down her spine. She dipped forward, resting her forehead against Ada’s, closing her eyes as she quietly admitted, “Oh, I’m closer to being there than you realize.”

Hecate was nuzzling her nose against Ada’s, and the blonde felt a wash of triumphant delight.

Still, there was the principle of the thing.

“Perhaps you should learn patience,” Ada informed her. Hecate pulled back, shocked by her response. Ada grinned wickedly, giving the brunette a quick peck on the tip of her nose before slipping away and heading towards the stairs. Borrowing Hecate's words from earlier, she saccharinely added, “And perhaps you should consider the consequences of your actions before you torture me with such cruel refusals. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Hecate’s growl of frustration was enough to melt Ada right then and there. Still, the woman had to learn. Ada slowly mounted the stairs.

“Your underwear, Miss Cackle.”

The way she drawled the word _Miss_ informed Ada that she was already in trouble. The blonde turned back to see her deputy, standing prim and proper as ever, except for the pink lace underwear currently hanging from her fingertip as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah, yes,” Ada reached for them with magic. They barely fluttered, staying firmly on Hecate’s index finger.

Yep. Definitely in trouble.

With theatrical slowness, Hecate leaned against the wall, feet shifting into a wider stance, both a challenge and an invitation.

“Earn them,” she purred.

And so Ada did.


End file.
